The Battle of Ground-hog-warts
by Faeriniel
Summary: Harry has been living the day of the battle for more than thirty years. But today is different. Today is the day he unmakes all of Tom Riddles' foul works, saving Britain, saving those who would have died and maybe just maybe those who already have.
1. Chapter 1

Every part of Harry ached with the effort of holding on to the dragon's back.

"Is it my imagination," shouted Ron after a considerable stretch of silence, "or are we losing height?"

Harry looked down and saw deep green mountains and lakes, coppery in the sunset. the landscape seemed to grow larger and more detailed as he squinted over the side of the dragon, and he wondered whether it had divined the presence of fresh water by the flashes of reflected sunlight. Lower and lower the dragon flew, in great spiraling circles, honing in, it seemed, upon one of the smaller lakes.

"I say we jump when it gets low enough!" Harry called back to the others. "Straight into the water before it realizes we're here!"

They agreed, Hermione a little faintly, and now Harry could see the dragon's wide yellow underbelly rippling in the surface of the water.

"NOW!" He slithered over the side of the dragon and plummeted feet first toward the surface of the lake; the drop was greater than he had estimated and he hit the water hard, plunging like a stone into a freezing, green, reed-filled world.

The dragon did not seem to have noticed anything; it was already fifty feet away, swooping low over the lake to scoop up water in its scarred snout.

As Ron and Hermione emerged, spluttering and gasping, from the depths of the lake, the dragon flew on, its wings beating hard, and landed at last on a distant bank.

Hermione collapsed on the shore, sodden and spluttering, breathing in great lungfuls of air. Part of her mind uncoiled as it recognised the firm feeling of solid ground beneath her but it was soon overshadowed by the numerous burns and cuts that began to throb and sting all over her body.

She clambered onto her knees and reached with a shaking hand for her wand. She winced as she dabbed Essence of Dittany onto a large burn, the clothing having been burned away.

Then she turned to Ron and did the same for him.

Ron groaned and sat up, and pushed his fringe out of his eyes. He looked around then turned to Hermione, "Where's Harry?"

Hermione's head snapped around, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She remembered him diving from the dragon's back, but after that it had been nothing but the churning water, a desperate need to breathe and her pail hands reaching for the surface.

There had been no time to check on the others, "He's still in there!" cried Hermione and surged to her feat. Her vision blackened and she staggered, but forced herself unsteadily towards the lakeside.

But before she could make herself wade into the water in search of her friend, a sound pulsed through the water and the lake began to glow. Something in the water shone brightly from the depths.

The sound pulsed again, a deep, pure thrum that rocked through Hermione, a sound so deep it smothered out everything.

Then the choppy surface of the lake erupted and Harry, spluttering and wide eyed burst into the air.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," cried Hermione, and Harry was lifted bodily from the water. With a wave of her wand, Harry was floating through the air to come to rest next to Ron.

Ron made to dab his wounds with Dittany, but Harry waved him off, and pulled out his own wand. With barely a glance, he passed his wand over his body and his cuts and burns healed in the blink of an eye.

"What?" said Hermione, stunned by Harry's casual display of advance healing charms.

Harry's eyes found hers and something in the depths seemed totally alien to her, "I'm _Groundhogging_ , Hermione. Explain the concept to Ron, I need a moment."

"Groundhogging," said Ron, a confused look on his face, "Is that something from the Quibbler?"

"It's… it's a movie Ron, about a man who experiences the same day over and over. He's the only one who remembers… Harry, how many times have you done this?"

"Lost count around ten thousand," said Harry as he rummaged in the Mokeskin pouch, "Aha!" He pulled out an old sock then turned to Ron and Hermione.

"I'll explain on the way, just trust me on this. We have a war to win," he grinned, "and so very much more!"

With that, he pointed his wand at the sock and mumble, " _Portus_."

The Portkey hooked the three of them and they lurched forward in tempest of wind and swirling colour. Hermione shut her eyes tight and tried desperately to distract herself from the nauseous method of travel.

Fortunately there were so many questions. As she bumped and jostled between the two boys she began to sort them out into some semblance of order.

She had just got to question number twenty three when the ground slammed into her feet.

She let out a squeal of surprise and would have toppled over if Harry hadn't caught her.

"Right you two, follow me," said Harry confidently and marched off towards the glowing lights of a small township at the bottom of the hill.

Hermione was about ask when Harry, not looking back began to speak again.

"Yes Hermione, I am experiencing the same day over and over. Voldemort!"

"Harry the taboo!" yelled Ron as dark shapes appeared all around them with a series of cracks. Next thing Ron knew he was pushed off his feat by a wave of force and crashed into Hermione, sending them toppling to the ground.

"Who dares utter the Dark Lord's name?" barked a harsh voice as six figures formed a semicircle around Harry, "We've got you surround-"

From the ground, Hermione saw Harry flick his wand once and instantly the six snatchers were clutching at their throats. To Hermione it look like they were drowning.

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. Another wave of his wand and Ron was back on his feat and Harry was dusting him down, "Sorry about that, Ron, Hermione but believe me it was the best way. I hope you noticed my liberal use of cushioning charms."

Harry followed the wide eye gaze of his best friends who were now staring at the struggling Snatchers, "And to answer your latest question Hermione, it's a reverse Bubblehead Charm. Remarkably effective don't you think. It can be canceled with a well cast _Finite_ but suffocation seems to make them panic every time."

Harry disarmed them with a wordless Accio and canceled to spell letting the six snatchers fell to ground, dragging in ragged breaths.

"Now as to what we are doing here, I am waiting for a letter and you are freaking out. Once I have my letter, we are going to force our way through one of the best protected dwellings on the planet. Truly formidable stuff let me tell you. Took me ages to crack it.. That's why I said Tom's name. We needed a couple of volunteers. Now if you'll just give me a moment."

And with that he started Confunding five of the six Snatchers. The last one he Obliviated, stunned then Portkeyed him away.

"What did you do with him?" asked Ron, his arm unconsciously wrapped around Hermione's shoulders.

"Samual B. Erikson. Working undercover as a Snatcher and has helped several Muggleborns escape. But we can't have him wandering about so I stunned him, removed the memory of the day and sent him to his sister's place."

He turned to the others, his face hardening, "As for this lot, each and every one of them has done things that would land them in Azkaban for decades." He pointed to the one who spoke earlier, "Huxley here likes torturing Muggles, especially pregnant ones."

"How do you know all this?" asked Ron, "I mean, how do you know about them!"

"Huh, you beat Hermione to the punch this time," mused Harry, "that bodes well. I've spent hours, days even, rifling through all their minds over the years. I know more that anyone should ever know about this lot." He turned to the dazed snatchers, "Alright you lot, up you get!" he barked.

The five remaining Snatchers struggled to their feet and stood waiting patiently for Harry's next instruction.

"What are you going to do to them? Asked Hermione in a small voice.

Harry turned to his oldest friends and the strange gleam in his eyes faded. He closed the distance between them and pulled them both into a hug, "Don't worry guys. I haven't become that kind of monster yet."

Hermione pulled away, her eyes wide, "You've killed them before haven't you?"

Harry sighed, shoulders sagging, "Hermione, I've tried everything."

"So what are you going to do with then? This time?" Asked Ron, gripping his wand nervously.

"We are going to tap them for everything their worth, shatter defenses the world believe inviolate and leave these bastards as little more than squibs." said Harry evenly.

Ron's face went white at the idea of anyone losing their magic, "I think I'd almost prefer to die," he muttered.

"Magic is wonderous thing Ron. A gift, one that they have abused time and time again. The don't deserve it so I'm going to do my best to take it away from them. Now come, time is getting away from us."

With that he started making his way toward the village, the Snatchers marching in a line before him.

"I have more questions!" Hermione said, as she jogged up to him.

Harry smiled, "I know. Let me fill you in. On my first time through today, we almost won, but at the last minute, I died in a duel with Tom. Then I found myself in the water, experiencing the day again. Let me tell you I made a complete hash of things the second time around and never even got to face Tom. As the sun rose, I felt like I was underwater and then suddenly I was back in the lake."

"I talked it over with you on my third trip and you told me about the movie. We've even watched it together a couple of time."

"You mean we just blew of the hunt for the diadem?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Yeah, Hermione had a theory the character from the movie, I had to complete some special set of circumstances to make it to the next day. Then we brain stormed over the next couple of cycles and we came up with a great plan. Can you guess what it is, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned, her mind racing with the possibilities before her eyes widened as the full realisation stuck, "You have infinite time… you could construct the perfect day, defeat him… do anything, so long as you could manage it before dawn!"

"Exactly! But then I got really ambitious. Years back I managed it, we all but won the war, captured all the Death Eaters and no one died. It was down to Tom and I. But at the last second I had an idea, a crazy, impossible idea. What if we could do more?"

"More?" Hermione said, puzzled.

Ron froze, and almost tripped. Harry reached out a stopped him falling over, his eyes alight, "You're going to save _everybody_!"

"Damn right I am. And with you two by my side, we can do it."

The arrived at the outskirts of the little town that looked much like Godrics Hollow had. Neat Cottages stood on either side of the broad winding road that cut through the village. A short way ahead of them, the glow of golden streetlights indicated the center of the village.

Harry turned into a side street and moved confidently. He paused near a window and tapped his wand against it. The window unlocked and slid open without a sound.

" _Accio_ catfood" muttered Harry and a small tin of the stuff sailed out the window into his waiting hand. With another wave the window closed and latched itself.

"Cat food?" said Ron, looking at the tin as if it held some unknown power.

"Cat food," Harry said with a nod and moved on.

They stopped a short time later, in line with the fence between two small cottages.

Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew the watch Molly had gifted him. Harry pointed at a point in the sky, "Three, two, one!"

The air above them seemed to boil for a moment then _something_ pulsed and a single owl flapped into existence. Without missing a beat, it arced towards Harry and alighted on the fence before him, then held it's leg out. Harry gently removed the letter and read the short missive before handing it to Hermione and Ron.

All that was written was an address. They looked up at the same time, only to notice a distinctly wizardish house was now standing between the two muggle houses that had been neighbors just moments before.

Harry nodded and then turned his wand on the five silent figures. They moved in perfect unison, standing side by side, along the front of the freshly revealed cottage. Then as one, they raised their wrists' to their mouths and bite hard, piercing the skin and slicing veins open.

Ron gagged, but Hermione couldn't look away. The Snatchers held out the bleeding arms, letting the blood drip on the ground in front of them. Then they began to chant.

" _Blood which is magic, blood which is life, take what is offered. Soul be the lock, blood thy key, take what is given. Blood be our link, trust be our bond, I am thy keeper._

Hermione held her breath, but nothing happened. She looked at Harry, who seemed to be waiting for something, "Did it work?" she finally asked.

Harry held up a single finger, motioning her to wait. For a moment nothing happened, then the five snatchers fell to their knees, gasping as if they'd just run a marathon.

Harry grinned… no he smirked, "The protections around the house now view me as master."

Huxley seemed to shake off whatever daze he'd been in and turned his face up to Harry. He reached for his wand but Harry just smiled and held it up in front of him.

"Thanks, Hux," said Harry and chucked the Snatcher his wand.

"Stupid boy," Huxley spat and turned his wand on the trio. Ron and Hermione dived for cover but Harry stayed still.

" _Confringo_!" bellowed the Snatcher, but nothing happened.

Harry smiled, "Not going to work, Hux. I'm not sure you could even manage a Lumos anymore."

"You little shit, what have you done to me?" he screamed.

"Only half what you deserved. You'll spend the rest of your days as a squib. Now if you'll excuse us, we Wizards have work to do." and with that Harry Banished the Snatchers, flinging them across the road, slamming into the hedgerow in a tangle of limbs and groans.

"Sorry about that," said Harry as he helped Ron and Hermione up, "Couldn't resist a little showmanship. Now let's pay Sidero a visit.

Realisation dawned on Hermione, "You overwhelmed the semantic link of a _home_ and it's _owner!_ " she exclaimed.

"Yeah, but it was Ron who had the idea first."

"I did?" said Ron bemusedly.

"Well we all agreed there was no way to break the protections without destroying the house and a fair chunk of the coastline, but you said something…" Harry shook his head, "You know, it's been so long I can't quite remember, Sorry Ron. Either way, it took me ages to figure out how to actually do it."

"And you took their magic!"

"Technically they still have it, it just being used right now. That's part of the deal, they offer their magic, a part of themselves and it subsumes the claim of the owner."

"That was blood magic, Harry," said Hermione. She couldn't quite hide the accusation in her voice.

"Yes and just like with House Elves, the magical community has it all wrong. Technically it should be referred to as prime magic. Turns out, the first spells all used blood as a conduit. If we see tomorrow, I'll tell you everything I can, but for now I need you to trust me. This was the best way. Or would you have preferred I track down the original secret keeper and torture it out of them?"

"Of course not!" said Hermione hotly.

"Good, because I need you to say 'here kitty kitty.'" said Harry seriously.

Hermione gave Harry an incredulous look before crossing her arms and saying, "Here kitty kitty."

Almost at once, a fluffy white cat burst from the bushes and ran to Hermione. It rubbed its body against her legs and when Hermione bent down to pat it, it started purring.

"Works every time." said Harry admiringly as he walked over to the front door of the house. He turned the handle and it opened.

Harry held a finger up to his mouth, motioning for quiet and together they tiptoed into the dark house.

Hermione was reminded of Snape's potions classroom. A plethora of ingredients and flasks covered every surface, every shelf and hung from rafters in no discernible order.

Harry was rummaging around in one of the cupboards, pulling out small bags and gathering them on a nearby table, "Ron, in the next room you'll find a small cauldron, bring it in here for me."

"What will happen?"

"You'll find me a cauldron, Ron." answered Harry flatly.

"Not what I meant, prat. Will anything bad happen?"

"Not if you're quiet."

Ron huffed and stalked off to the next room.

"What are you making Harry?" Hermione asked as she held the cat close.

"I've never given it a name, to be honest. I get Ron to chuck a whole lot of whatever into a cauldron and feed it to the cat."

"You wouldn't!" said Hermione, holding the cat closer and shielding it with her body, utterly scandalised.

"Sssh! Of course I wouldn't. But our unwitting host doesn't know that."

Ron returned with the cauldron and Placed it over the stove. Harry thanked him and lit the stove with the poke of his wand. He waved Ron closer, "Okay Ron, I want you to really Neville this potion up proper."

Ron chuckled and nodded, "That I can do."

"Now I'm going to wake our guest." Harry moved off into the darkness.

Hermione turned to Ron who was contentedly through random things into the cauldron. He reached for a jar of porcupine quills and was about to empty it into his creation.

Hermione's hand shot out and grab his arm, stopping the explosive mistake at the last moment.

Ron turned to her and smiled, "Couldn't do Neville justice if you weren't there making sure it didn't explode."

"How you can be so calm?" demanded Hermione under her breath.

Ron's smile faded and he leaned in to whisper into her ear, "Look I've messed up once already. I should have trusted Harry… trusted you. But I didn't and I stormed off like a bloody idiot. I'm not doing that again. Harry asked us to trust him, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Ron he's been reliving the same day for at least thirty year! Do you really think he's still the same Harry we knew going into to Gringotts?"

"Maybe. I don't really know. What I do know is that he's been honest with us and he has a plan, besides maybe this might be the power he knows not."

A floorboard creaked behind them and Ron and Hermione leapt apart. Harry was standing behind them looking tense, an unconscious woman floating in the air behind him.

He set his shoulders and met their eyes, "So… what did you decide?"

Hermione looked at Ron and he nodded, "Oh Harry," said Hermione as she closed the distance and drew him into a hug, "we're with you, to whatever end."

"Too right," said Ron.

Harry sagged in Hermione's arms, "Thank Merlin. Sometimes… sometimes you don't."

Hermione pulled back and held his gaze, "Just promise me Harry, that you really mean to finish it this time."

"I do Hermione, I think I finally have everything set."

"So who's the old woman?" ask Ron, nodding toward the floating hostage as he stirred the potion.

"This is Sloane Sidero. Potioneer, Necromancer and Alchemist and most importantly for us, former Unspeakable. She also happens to be the one person in the world with the only remaining slither of the Flamel's Stone, and we are going to ask her for it."

"But Dumbledore told you it was destroyed!" protested Hermione.

"Hermione, think about how powerful the Horcruxes are, now remember just how messy destroying them is. Take that and multiply it by one hundred. The Philosopher's Stone isn't something you can just break with a hammer, and somehow, Sidero here got her hands on a piece that was left over."

"Right so what are we going to do with it?" asked Ron.

"Everything, Ron, everything!"


	2. Chapter 2

Sloane Sidero had been sleeping the deep sleep of someone who thought themselves perfectly safe. A rarity for someone in her line of work, to be sure. But the effort to enact the horrendously complicated Fidelius Charm had been well worth it.

The squib who held the secret didn't even know they did so, making Sidero's residence a perfect fortress against the world. Here she spent her days delving into the depths of magic, free from the meddling bureaucracy of the Ministry or the quick wands of those damned Auror's.

Here she could study forbidden arts, experiment with the deepest magics and weave wicked curses. So what if the price of her knowledge was the lives of countless Muggles and Mudbloods, progress demanded sacrifice, just not hers.

So when Sloane Sidero was roughly woken from her much needed rest to find herself without wand and bound to a hard wooden chair her brain, formidable though it was took a long time to process how anyone could have found her.

A tall young man with vivid green eyes stood in front of her, wand held loosely in his hands. Behind him a another man was leaning over her best cauldron, scraping the delicate metal with each rotation, occasionally clanging her favourite stirring rod onto the side. It set her teeth on edge.

But all else was forgotten when she saw the young woman with bushy hair holding _her_ cat in her arms. Princess had her eyes closed and was purring contentedly in the intruders arms. They must have done something to her poor cat!.

"Hello Sloane, my name is Harry Potter and you have something that I need," said boy closest to her with a lazy smile on his face.

"Whatever it is you think I have, I haven't got it. I'm a potion maker not some goblin hoarding treasure," she spat. She wasn't going to let them see her fear, she was Sloane Sidero, she had forgotten more about magic then these three children would ever know.

The boy laughed, "But that's simply not true at all, why just this room alone has enough rare ingredients alone to make Snape drool. However, I'm after something far more valuable."

Sloane tensed in her restraints. It couldn't be true, she'd been so careful. Not even Dumbledore had suspected anything and now this brat stood before her, in her own house no less, somehow aware of her most precious treasure?

Her mind raced, no it couldn't be true. He was bluffing, fishing for details. He probably suspected she had something of value and was hoping she'd blurt it out. She had to give them something of sufficient value that they'd believe it was her true treasure, but what?

One thing came to mind. She hated to lose it, but it was a trifle compared to her real treasure. Besides, she could always brew more when she was done stringing up these thieves.

She hung her head, as if in defeat, "Fine," she said, her voice broken and horse, "I'll show you where it is."

"Excellent," said Potter, waving his wand and freeing her from the chair, "lead on."

Sloane rose from her chair, her form hunched and cowering, as her eyes darted around the room looking for anything she could use. If she lead him into the basement she might get her hands on a flask of Erumpent oil. The volatile liquid would make short work of the thief, then all that was needed was to find one of her wands and she would make the fools beg for death!

As she opened the door to the basement she couldn't stop the cruel smile that stretched her weathered face. Boys and their wands, idiots the lot of them. The Potter boy lit the tip of his wand and followed after her into the darkness.

"It's just over there," she said, pointing into an empty corner of the room with a wrinkled hand. Just as she hoped the boy looked and pointed his wand away from her. In that instant she dived for a nearby table, tore off the wax lid of a small bottle and through the contents at Potter.

At the same time she dived under the table to avoid the impending explosion. She clamped her hands over her ears and waited.

And waited.

Finally she opened her eye to see Potter standing there, wholly intact, "How?" she croaked.

"I swapped the Erumpent oil for water before I ever woke you up. Now if you through rolling around in the dust, I'm on a rather a tight schedule."

She gaped at him. How could he possibly have known, "Are you a Seer, is that how you found me?"

He smiled again, "Something like that. Just assume I know you better than you know yourself. Now let's press on."

He made a shooing motion at her. She could feel the flood rushing to her face as she fought done the urge to strangle the life from him. How she hated that mocking glint in his eyes. She swore to herself that as soon as she was free, and she would be free, she would use all her arts, acquired over long years of perilous experimentation to destroy Potter. It would be a thing of beauty. Mages born a thousand years from this day would still talk of what Sloane Sidero did to Harry Potter in little more than a whisper lest the attract even an inkling of the suffering she had in store for-

"Yes, yes, thousand years of torment, very good," The brat shot a jolt of yellow light into her thigh, stinging her flesh like a hard slap, "Monologue on your own time, Sidero. Some of us have better things to do."

Sloane grit her teeth. Damned fool, young he might be, but Potter clearly wasn't without some power. She hadn't at all suspected he might be a Legilimens but she filed it away for later use. After all, when one gazed into the abyss…

They arrived at a large picture frame, cover in a dusty white sheet. Without prompting, Potter vanished the sheet revealing a portrait of a stone hallway, leading endlessly into the depths of the canvas. A door split the wall on one side in two and light shone from within, washing the stone of the hallway in pale blue.

Potter look at her expectantly, the ever present laughter glinting in his eyes.

"I need my wand to enter," she tried.

"We both know you don't," he replied calmly, "You decided it would be too risky to tie the enchantment to your wand, given the chance you might lose it."

"How could you possible know that?"

"Maybe I'll tell you someday," then shot another stinging curse at her, "Hurry up, dear."

Seething, Sloane faced the picture frame once more, then stepped into it. Her perception wavered and squeezed unnaturally and she stumbled slightly before adjusting to the two dimensional plane.

She walked down the hallway to the door and entered. There it was, a bubbling pot of perfect molten gold, Felix Felicis. Oh how she longed to down a days worth, an hours worth, even a moment's. With pure luck pumping through her veins she would turn the table on the thieves and introduce them to the all unendurable delights that her wickedness could devise.

But she could not, for within the frame, all paint. Indeed that was the point, for a picture of a potion could last a thousand times the life of a real potion. She would have to remove it from its vault to make any use of it whatsoever.

Reality shuddered as she expanded once more into the material plane. For the briefest of moments she was overwhelmed, yet that was long enough for Potter to take the precious liquid from her.

"Thanks," said Potter lightly and pointed his wand at her. Red light rocketed from its tip and crashed into her chest and all was darkness.

Sloane groaned as she roused again. Two stunners in one night at her age, what was that fool boy thinking. She made to stand up, only to find herself bound again to the same chair. Potter was there, still completely at ease. Ginger seemed to be finished ruining her finest cauldron and Bushy _still_ had her cat in her arms.

Potter was saying something to the other two, his words seeped slowly into her foggy mind, "-still be a bit drowsy from the stunners, but it's nothing that won't wear off in the next hour or two.

Ginger was staring greedily at the Felix Felicis, "Imagine what we could do with all this!"

"Luck will only take you so far, Ronald, besides that much would be toxic," said Bushy.

"I wasn't suggesting we drink it _all_ , Hermione!" Protested the one called Ronald.

Bushy was about to retort when Potter clapped his hands loudly, "Enough, we don't have time. I need the Felix for a very specific purpose, but before we do that we need what we really came for."

Sloane's heart froze in her chest. It just wasn't possible. She'd given them a king's ransom in luck but it appeared this Potter knew her every move before she did. Potter turned to her.

"We need the stone, Sidero. I know you have it so don't bother denying it. I also know that you are the only one that can call it forth, you protected it even better than this," he said gesturing to the pot of luck.

"I'll never talk!" she spat.

"You always say that," replied Potter confidently, moving to the stove where the redhead over stirred whatever it was he was trying to make. Potter gave it a sniff then reeled back, coughing.

"Merlin Ron, that is horrid, one of the worst I've seen," then inexplicably Potter clapped Ronald on the back as if he couldn't be happier. Then those bright green eyes found her again, "Now Sidero, call the stone or I dunk Princess in the cauldron and let you deal with whatever manages to crawl back out!"

A chill ran through Sloane. There was perhaps three things in all the world that she truly valued. Her work, her life and her cat. Potter had once again proved himself a powerful seer.

"You best kill me after this, Potter. I will find you and I will pull such screams from your tattered soul as to-"

Potter waved his wand and her jaw snapped shut.

"Right, sometimes just the threat is enough, oh well. Hermione, if you could please place Princess on the bench there, please."

Bushy looked torn about it for a moment, then slowly released the cat onto the bench. Potter then trained his wand on Princess, " _Imperio._ "

Princess shivered once and then started to walk jerkily towards the cauldron.

Potter spared her a glance over his shoulder, "You can stop this at any time Sidero, just call the stone and we'll release you and the cat."

Sloane Sidero knew herself to be many things. She was wicked and conniving, brilliant and driven but she was not brave. The darkness in her soul was not that of the petty dark lords who sought to topple empires, but the hunger for the deepest magics. All manner of ghastly transgression were permitted in her pursuit. Her hands were drenched in blood. The blood of the lost, the weak and the innocent.

She protected herself from the madness with her overriding belief that progress required sacrifice. A thousand years from now, the deaths she had caused, the agony she had wrought from decades of victims would be silent and all that would remain was her grand works.

One thing she allowed herself to care about, a last tether to humanity, lest she lose herself to her dark arts, and Harry Potter was about to drown it in some foul potion. Her mind was a blur of strategies and calculations as her precious cat stuttered ever closer to the boiling cauldron.

She snapped and mentally called forth the stone. It appeared before her in the air, then fell to the ground with all the gravitas of loose gravel.

" _Finite_ ," said Potter then picked up the tiny fragment of stone, he closed his eyes as if bracing himself for something, but nothing happened.

Sloane struggled in her bindings, glaring hard eyed at Potter, demanding release. He had wrested the stone from her, but she would get it back. She would hunt him every moment of every day until she pried it from his thieving hands.

Potter still knelt on the ground, his eyes still closed, "Ron, Hermione; I'm about to do something that's going to upset you. I ask you to trust me, just for a little bit longer. Trust that I'm working towards a better world… for all of us," he let out a sigh, "Do I have it?"

"Yeah mate, you do," said Ron gravely.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"...Yes."

Potter opened his eyes and it seemed to Sloane that his eyes had never shone so bright. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a snitch of all things. He held it before him for a moment and then said, "I am about to die."

The Snitch split in two, revealing a black stone with a jagged crack running down the center. Potter's hands were steady as he plucked it from it's spot, then his eyes, his terrible burning eyes locked onto hers.

"This is the second Hallow, the Resurrection Stone."

Bushy and Ginger both gasped, but Sloane couldn't take make herself look away from the man in front of her.

"It is perhaps the greatest work of soul magic ever created… if indeed it was created. You are a foul, broken creature, Sidero. You could have been so much more, could have brought light to this fading world."

Again he paused and the room was silent.

"For what it is worth, I am sorry for what I am about to do… _Avada Kedavra_!"

For the fraction of a second, all was green.


	3. Chapter 3

Something deep inside Ron felt violated as the room exploded in a burst of sickly green light. It was not the first time he'd seen the killing curse. The Death Eaters had sent several his way during the disastrous escape from number 4 privet drive after all. But this was the first time he'd been so close. Even in the brief time it took to travel from wand to victim, some deep animal part of Ron recoiled from the wrongness of the spell. Finally he understood why it was an unforgivable curse.

The body of Sidero slumped in her restraints and all was silent. Ron couldn't make himself move, couldn't draw breath, couldn't blink. To do so was surely to invite the same fate as Sidero.

Gradually the oppressive atmosphere receded, but Ron knew that from that day on, he would always feel it lurking in the quiet, living in the back of his mind. Some part of him had felt death, and would never be the same.

Hermione drew in a shuddering gasp and the dreadful silence was shattered, "Oh Harry, what have you done!"

Ron couldn't remember Hermione ever looking so scared before, her whole body trembled and Ron knew she felt the same visceral horror that he did.

Ron swallowed, his mouth dry, looking between Harry and Hermione. His hands felt sticky and a cold sweat was crawling down his back, "Harry… mate… what…" was all he could force out.

Harry let his wand hand drop to his side and his eyes met Ron's, "If it helps… It never gets any easier. If there was any other way..."

"Harry, do you remember when the two Death Eaters found us after we escaped the wedding?" Hermione asked, her voice brittle.

Harry's face stretched into a forlorn sort of smile, "I do Hermione," said Harry, "we could have killed them, Merlin know's they deserved it many times over, but we didn't. Even when I fled Private drive on the back of Hagrid's motorcycle I only disarmed them."

Hermione's eyes welled with tears, "Y-you're not really our Harry anymore are you?"

Harry sighed and seemed to wilt, "No, Hermione, I don't think I am. But I need you to trust me for just a little bit longer. I may not be the same Harry but you have to believe me that we want the same things. I will defeat Tom and I will protect as many people as I can."

"This isn't protecting people, Harry. This is murder!" Ron found himself shouting.

"Don't you think I know that?" said Harry tiredly, "I wish I knew the words to make you see… No it's better this way. I don't think I could stomach being able to talk you into this," he sighed heavily then shook himself and pulled out his battered pocket watch, "almost seven minutes," he muttered to himself. Then he turned back to the limp form still bound to the chair.

Ron grit his teeth, his hand white knuckled on his wand. This was wrong, _this was wrong_ , this was so damned wrong. The Harry he knew would never have been able to use _that_ spell, the spell that took his parents away from him.

Hadn't Ron made a promise to Harry, a promise to himself.

His mind flashed back to that horrible night when he had abandoned Harry, abandoned Hermione. The boiling resentment that had clouded every thought, the desperate desire to do something, anything.

The rage had boiled away to nothing in the cold sea winds of Shell Cottage. All that was left was the loathing, the all consuming guilt. He'd made a promise. He would never let Harry face the world alone again.

But this wasn't Harry was it. Harry all but admitted it and if Hermione thought something, then ninety nine times out of a hundred, it was right. He didn't owe the man in front of him his loyalty.

This man was a murderer, something that Harry could never be.

A promise.

His wand began to rise. He leveled it at the back of the killer's head. He thought of the Harry that had been with them on the dragon's back, the Harry that hadn't spent the last thirty odd years reliving the same hellish day over and over. He could get him back. Surely he was still in there somewhere.

A promise.

" _Obliviate_!" he cried.

His wand bucked in his hand and suddenly he was holding a spatula. Ron blinked at the cooking utensil in his hand dumbly, his brain unable to make the leap. His wand, what had happened to it?

"You're a good man, Ronald Weasley," said Harry as he knelt in front of Sidero's body, "But I've planned every moment of this day out for years. _Petrificus Totalus_."

Ron's body froze completely and all he could do was watch helplessly as Harry turned his wand on Hermione bound her just as completely.

"I'm sorry guys, I really am, but this next bit is going to take all my concentration and I can't have you interfering."

With another negligent flick of his wand, Ron found himself sitting on a comfy couch besides Hermione. Then Harry waved his wand in the air and a piece of paper appeared. Text, as if written by some unseen hand began to cover the paper.

Once complete the paper folded itself up neatly and floated gently through the air and glided into Hermione's pocket.

"Hermione, this is very important. No matter what I say after this, you _must_ read that letter as soon as you can. It will explain everything."

Ron saw Harry fumbling at his collar and a moment later he was holding the Snitch Dumbledore had bequeathed him. Harry gazed at the thing, as if trying to see through it, "Dumbledore was a strange man… He had a plan, an insane one but amazing for all that. When I figured it out for the first time… it was like reading the book all over again. How I raged."

Harry's eyes shot up from the Resurrection Stone, darting between Ron's and Hermione's, "but in the face of eternity I began to understand. Far worse things than death indeed."

The fragment of the Philosopher's stone they had come for was now floating over The Resurrection Stone. Then the final slither of Flammel's famous invention began to melt in mid air. Harry, a strange glint in his eye, orchestrated the whole thing with Draco's wand held loosely in his hand.

The liquefied stone was a deep red and Ron couldn't think of anything but blood. It spiraled down and joined with The Resurrection Stone, filling in the cracks.

Harry looked back up at them, "The soul is an interesting thing… it took me years to really start to feel it you know. I figured everything was reset whenever I went back. But the soul, _my_ soul remembers. Can you imagine what you'd see if you could look upon my soul."

Harry turned the stone over.

"Souls, they run like water. You put water in a cup, it becomes the cup… After all this time, my soul, has become something new."

He turned the stone over a second time.

Ron watched on in horror as the man who looked so much like his best friend pressed his wand against his chest and there was a moment of unearthly, horrendous silence.

He turned the stone over a third time.

And then Sloan Sidero drew in a single desperate breath and raised her head to stare at Potter.

Her eyes were now a startling green.


	4. Chapter 4

"Welcome back, Ms Sidero."

Terrible, ancient green eyes stared down at her from an impossibly young face. Her heart thundered in her chest, as if in defiance of the awful stillness that had been her corpse.

The boy… the thing that wore the boy like an ill fitting glove waved its wand over her, and the magic the bound her dissipated and she slouched limply in her chair.

For close to a century she'd delved into the darkest of magics, reviving forbidden lore not practiced for millennia. That fool boy and his Death Eaters thought they knew what true evil was, they cast paltry magics and thought they new what lay in the shadows. Oh how she had laughed.

But there could be no laughter in presence of the thing that stood before her.

"There is one last step, Ms Sidero," he said and gently brought his hand to the side of her head, almost like a lover intending to card their fingers through her hair. Instead two warm fingers pressed lightly on her temple and with that, he broke into her mind.

* * *

For a moment she was standing in what could only be the Ministry. Something golden held her flush to the marble floor. Dumbledore strode towards the pretender.

'We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,' Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. 'Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit –'

'There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!' snarled Voldemort.

'You are quite wrong,' said Dumbledore.

Sloane looked up at the golden thing that held her down. It's face was her face, but the expression was nothing like Sidero had ever seen before. In that moment it looked down on her like a god of the old world, capricious and unknowable.

It held her in the scales of its judgment and found her wanting.

Then the ministry faded as the cruel statue dissolved into myst.

Slowly focus returned and she knew it was Christmas, a memory from over a century ago. Mother and Father were doting on her older sister. Sloane quietly seethed at being ignored.

What did it matter that her sister was sick. What did it matter that she rarely got to leave St Mungo's? She turned her back on the scene only to be confronted by the sight of the tree, it's green needles covered in tinsel. And the dearth of presents underneath. She knew why it was so bare. It was her sister's fault, she'd heard her mother crying about it once, when the adults hadn't closed the door properly. About how expensive the care for sister was.

Sister should just get better or leave, that's what Sloane thought. Otherwise all she was doing was hurting everyone. Sloane didn't like how it felt, didn't like being ignored. It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

The tree began to glow. A vivid emerald green. Somehow familiar but she couldn't place it. Then it pulsed and a wave of the concentrated colour burst across the room.

As it enveloped Sloane she suddenly understood. Next moment she was dashing towards her sister. Her small arms wrapped around the frail form of her sister to the shock of everyone there.

"I don't want you to go, I don't want you to go!"

Her sister returned the hug, holding onto Sloane with arms that were both too thin and too cold.

The hug, the embrace she'd never got to have in real life faded into the myst.

* * *

Everyone was in black. Her pathetic father was crying like some wounded animal. Mother just stared blankly as the casket lowered. Sloane tried hard not to smile. Now everything would be better, now that sister wasn't making everyone sad anymore. Mother and Father would spend time with her, Mother wouldn't cry about bills and Christmas would be as it should.

"Place the flower on the casket dear," instructed her stony faced grandmother. Sloane looked down at the hand she'd swear had been empty a moment ago to see a slightly wilted Yellow Carnation. She threw it at the coffin.

As it arched towards the casket, a single shaft of light glinted off the green stem and again a pulse of light shot forth.

Sloane was crying. No she was weeping and raging at the world. How dare it do this to her. How dare it rip a whole in her family like this. She furiously rubbed her eyes.

No damn it, she would not let this change her. The world could throw everything at her but, curse it all, she would never break.

She screamed and the world burst into myst. The nothingness smelt like Lotus flowers.

* * *

Her heart was racing. The Muggle boy wasn't moving. She felt something, she _actually_ felt something. Sloane had _never_ felt like this before. Never felt this in control… this powerful. She thought of her sister for the first time in years, of the terrible power she'd held over Sloane's family. That last day; Father and Mother flinching at ever ragged breath, the mounting tension cloying the air as they waited for the next one.

No it was Sloane who held that power, and she didn't need to be a weak dying rag like her sister.

Her eyes sort her audience, all of them muggles in their mid teens. All of them with that same expression her parents wore. She let the tension build, so familiar yet so new to her. It was intoxicating.

When would they snap, when would they realise their friend was dead?

The body on the ground groaned softly and rolled over, onto it's back. Blood ran thickly from his broken nose, staining his collar… green?

A _shift_.

She rushed to the teens side, her wand a blur as she righted his nose and vanished the blood. Soon his was mended, even the scabs he'd started the day with had flaked away, leaving nothing but smooth, whole skin.

Her gut twisted, she'd done magic in front of Muggles! Reluctantly she forced herself to face the crowed. They would hate her she knew it. They would chase her away with sticks and stones and cruel words-

"That's amazing!" said a young boy and a second later she was surrounded by the excited teens, their eyes alight with wonderment and something else it took Sloane a long moment to comprehend.

They accepted her.

* * *

The disorienting flow sped up and Sloan could no longer make sense of it. Her guide was pausing at particular memories, although the pattern took her a long while to figure out.

It was looking for the thousands of little moments in which she'd abandoned her humanity. The casual cruelties that built, one on top of the other until the screams of her captives sounded more like music than the horror of another living being.

She was forced to relive each step she had taken on her journey. Now every time she hurt someone it was she who bled. Then the tendrils receded, leaving Sloane adrift. Terribly alone. Her twisted soul was laid bare to her waking mind and she could do nothing but recoil from it. From herself.

All that was left to her was the overwhelming horror of who she was.

Then Potter's magic took a hold of her soul and tore it apart. And in the tearing, in the gaps that appeared, something she could only perceive as bright green light rushed in and filled the void and they became one.

Whole.

'We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,' Dumbledore said calmly as he strode towards the pretender. She was back in the Ministry.

Sloane looked around for the golden golem that held her down the last time. Something struggled beneath her. Sloane body was golden and it pinned some broken thing to the ground as it trashed helplessly in her grip.

The retched thing looked up at her and quailed.

Sloane judged the creature, and found it wanting.

With a thought it was Christmas again.

* * *

She was sobbing. Strong arms held her body as it trembled and spasmed. She wept like a broken hearted child. With her whole being she sort exorcism. Confession. Forgiveness.

"Sloane," said the voice and something inside of her dared hope. "Sloane," it said so very softly, "I need your help."

That voice, it promised absolution. She knew she would do anything that voice asked of her.

"Sloane, I need you're help. Together we can save the world."

"How?" she croaked, her throat raw.

"The Veil, Sloane. We're going to move death itself."


End file.
